


dust to dust

by lanuit



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Political Animals, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Crossover, Crossover where the end of Political Animals happens sometime after the end of The Avengers movie, M/M, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 15:42:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2552873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanuit/pseuds/lanuit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve falls in love three times and they all happen with different men wearing the same face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dust to dust

He meets Bucky when he’s twelve years old.

Steve is too small and scrawny for his age, a combination of various illnesses and malnourishment, and perhaps simply because he got the short end of the stick when it came to the genetic lottery. To Steve none of this matters though, because he’s a firm believer that courage doesn't have anything to do with your body but your heart, words he first told his mother only to be smothered in kisses for being such a good boy at the tender age of five.  
  
He’s twelve now, but he still believes it, even if his heart is not as healthy as that of the other boys around his neighborhood. His heart and his body, his mother tells him one night when he’s seven and she’s trying to keep his fever down, are not a representation of his dreams or of who he is. He’s much more than the bad coughs and the bad colds he gets every winter. He’s not his heart that sometimes beats too fast or too slow. He’s too feverish to really understand her words in that moment, but they stay with him all the same.

She always tells him he’s a good boy and that she’s proud of him, even if by the age of nine he’s coming home with bloody knees and bruises on his face at least once a week. It’s always late by the time she comes home from work, but she still sits with him on his bed and asks him about the bruises, always giving him a sad little smile at the end. You are brave like your father, she tells him sometimes, but he can tell she worries about him. She has many worries, so he tries not to fight, but sometimes he just can’t help it.

The Middleton boys from around the corner pass their time bothering whoever passes by the alley next to their apartment. They can’t be more than thirteen years old, but they’re much taller and stronger than Steve. He’s twelve by the time he confronts them for the tenth time, this time because they’re bothering a girl he knows. Her name is Dorothy and she’s his age and she sells flowers next to the newsstand around the corner. His mother sometimes stops on their way home from church to look at the flowers, but she never buys any. There is no money for little things like that, and even if there was, Steve knows she wouldn't buy them because of his allergies. Dorothy is sweet and always smiles at him, even when she catches him staring at her for a few seconds too long. He always averts his eyes and tries to ignore the blush that spreads across his face. She’s a pretty girl and he likes that she always wears a different colored ribbon in her hair, but he likes it even more when she only wears blue after he tells her that’s his favorite color.

She’s wearing the blue ribbon today as she tries to pass the Middleton boys, but they’re blocking her path, trying to grab at the flowers she carries. Steve can tell she’s scared, and he knows he should be too-- he never wins a fight against one, so it’s a given he won’t win this time-- but he knows that at least Dorothy will be able to go home. It’s because of that he’s not afraid as he gets their attention, the Middleton boys already turning to him and guiding him to the back of the alley.

“Go, I’ll be fine,” he tells Dorothy as he raises his fists in front of him. She clutches the flowers to her chest, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Go!” He yells one last time before he’s being pushed back, a punch landing square on his jaw throwing him to the ground. He scrambles back to his feet, feeling a surge of relief when he doesn't see Dorothy anymore. Turning his attention back to the Middleton boys, he focuses on the fight he knows he’s not going to win. Steve responds to their taunting, letting them know he’s not going to back down from the fight, because yes, he is too small and too scrawny for his age, but he doesn't like bullies of any kind.

They hit him and then they him harder when he gets up again, and then again when he still refuses to stay on the ground. He gets up, wiping the blood from underneath his nose before raising his fists again, ready to keep fighting.

“You don’t learn, do you--“ the words from the Middleton boy are cut short as someone grabs his arm and pulls him around to a punch straight to the face. Steve looks on in surprise as the mystery boy that has come to his rescue fights the Middleton boys. It’s a quick fight, having caught the twins by surprise the other boy manages to hurt them enough for them to decide to run.

The boy is out of breath and a bruise is already forming on his own cheek, but he’s smiling as he turns to face Steve. “Dorothy sent me, she said some boys were bothering you. Asked me to come and make sure you were all right."

“I had them on the ropes,” Steve says, tasting blood and feeling the ache in his jaw and gut where a few punches landed.  
  
“Sure you did, pal.” The boy laughs a little, but Steve can tell he’s not mocking him, just a bit amused. “Name’s James, but my friends call me Bucky.” James looks at him for a moment like he’s considering something before a smile appears on his lips, a smile Steve will remember years later when he’s crying for his best friend in a half-destroyed bar in the middle of the war. “You can call me Bucky.” 

* * *

Steve is fifteen the first time he thinks of Bucky as his soulmate.

It’s a cold December day in Brooklyn, a good excuse to stay inside while they both pretend everything is okay even if it’s not. Steve has been sick for five days now, but today has been the worst, and he tried not to be scared when he heard his mother crying over his bed early in the morning before she left for work.  
  
Bucky has been visiting every day, even offered to stay all day today with him so his mother wouldn't worry about leaving him alone. Steve tried to protest, but he was too weak and half-delirious with a fever to make a good argument. His fever is still high and his breathing is ragged, almost as if his lungs are too small to get enough air into his body. His chest hurts, from the constant coughing or because his heart is working overtime to keep him alive, he doesn't know, but today he’s scared enough (and probably still delirious enough) to say a few things he wouldn't say otherwise.  
  
“Bucky?” His friend seems to be falling asleep in a chair next to his bed, but at the sound of his voice he wakes up with a start, a concerned look on his face that makes Steve’s already too tired heart beat a little faster.  
  
“Yeah, Stevie? I’m here, pal. I’m here.”  
  
Steve tries to roll his eyes, but he only manages a weak shake of his head. “I hate that nickname. Mm’not a baby.”  
  
Bucky laughs, sitting next to Steve on the bed. “Okay, _Steven_ ,” he says, but the words are said with affection Steve can feel deep down in his bones. He closes his eyes, almost too tired to be awake for more than a few minutes, but he doesn't want to sleep again. He sighs softly when he feels Bucky’s fingers in his hair, and he opens his eyes to find his friend looking down at him with a soft smile on his lips, almost as if there’s nothing better he could be doing than running his fingers through the sweat-damp hair of a boy who has been sick for days. It makes Steve feel a pang of sadness and something else he doesn't know what to name.  
  
“Your mother left some chicken soup for you. I’m going to bring it to you, okay? I can clean you up a bit after you eat. You stink, pal.” Bucky is still smiling, still running his fingers through his hair, and Steve feels like he’s going to burst from that feeling that’s always there but that somehow becomes stronger when his friend is around. And it’s not like he can help it, not when he knows what Bucky has been doing for him all week.  
  
He knows that Bucky has been working more hours at the docks to make a few extra cents, money he’s been giving to Mrs. Rogers so she can make something better for Steve to eat. He knows because he managed to wake up from his fever a few days ago to hear his mother and Bucky talking. He heard when she tried to tell his friend that they would manage with the money she was making, only for Bucky to beg her to take the money he had been able to get.  
  
“I’m doing this for selfish reasons, Mrs. Rogers. I want some of that meat pie Steve keeps telling me about. I already gave money to my Ma and I know myself. I know that if I keep this money I’ll just waste it on things I don’t need. Besides, I overheard some of the people near the docks talking about how a hearty meal can help someone who’s sick.” And then Steve had heard the small waver in his friend’s voice. “ _Please_. He’s my best friend.”  
  
Now Bucky is here and Steve is delirious and scared that there won’t be another winter for him, that this is one of the last few times he’ll be able to speak with his friend. Before Bucky can get up to get the food, Steve is grabbing Bucky’s hand to keep him from leaving. His grip is weak, but the other boy seems to understand and sits down again.  
  
“I’m just going to get the food, I’ll be back in a few.”  
  
Steve shakes his head, the movement making him dizzy, but he fights the darkness that wants to pull him down and make him sleep. “I want--“ He wets his lips. “I want to tell you a few things before I--“  
  
“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Steve.” Bucky’s anger has never been directed at him, but it’s there now along with a hint of desperation and fear beneath the surface. “Your mother told me all about how you tried to say goodbye in case you--“ It’s like Bucky can’t say the words and he just shakes his head. “Don’t you dare try it with me, pal.”  
  
There’s a rattling sound in his chest and Steve fights to find his voice, to breathe in enough air to keep his throat from closing up. “I wish I was normal--“  
  
“Steve.” Bucky’s voice is a warning, but there’s no anger now.  
  
“I wish I was like the other boys. I wish I was healthy and able to help my mother.” He gives a weak squeeze to Bucky’s hand. “I know that instead of going out like you like to do, you've been helping my mother out with the chores.” Steve tries to smile, but the gesture is weak and sad. “I wish I was a better friend. I wish I was stronger, like your other friends. I wish I could go to the ballpark with you and--“  
  
“Jesus Christ, Steve, _shut the hell up_. I don’t want you comparing yourself to anyone, okay? I don’t want you to be like anyone else. I don’t need you to be stronger or for you to play baseball with me like the others. You would beat me, anyway, so I wouldn’t play with you.” And here Steve knows Bucky is lying, knows his friend is only trying to make him feel better-- Bucky excels at any sport he tries, even if his favorite will always be baseball. He doesn’t have time to say anything because Bucky keeps talking, voice shaking on some words, like he’s trying to contain his emotions. “I just want you to fight this and to get better. I want us to go to Coney Island like we planned and ride the Cyclone until one of us throws up. I want us--" Another pause, and Steve is sure he’s delirious now because he thinks Bucky’s eyes are filled with tears. “I want us to be friends until we’re old and wrinkly, so stop being such a lazy fuck and get better, all right?”  
  
Steve is quiet for a long moment before he speaks again. “Do you believe in soulmates, Buck? I do. I think you’re mine.”  
  
Bucky laughs, but Steve watches him lift his free hand to wipe quickly at the corner of one eye. “Yeah? I think you’re delirious, punk.”  
  
“Jerk.” Steve smiles and closes his eyes, promising himself that he will do everything he can to get better. After a moment Bucky speaks and his voice is barely a whisper, but Steve can hear the words-- no, he _feels_ them deep in his chest where his heart is.  
  
“You’re mine, too, Stevie.”

* * *

Two years later, when Bucky turns eighteen and Steve has survived another year, he realizes he's in love with his best friend.  
  
It comes as a surprise and yet he feels like he always knew, a universal truth he couldn't have denied; the sky is blue, the grass is green, and Steve Rogers is in love with Bucky Barnes. And decades later when someone asks Steve if he was in love with his best friend he won't hesitate to answer-- Yes, since I was twelve years old.  
  
It happens at midnight, that's the first thing he always remembers. It happens at midnight when Bucky is officially eighteen and very much determined to get drunk.  
  
The second thing he remembers is that it happens in one of Bucky's favorite bars, a seedy place hidden by a few dark alleyways and other questionable places of business.  
  
The first time he was here he couldn't help but stare until Bucky had nudged him and taken him to a dark corner, his friend's usual smile replaced by a small frown. "I didn't think it would bother you." It's the years of knowing each other that make Steve aware there's something hidden underneath Bucky's words, but he can't quite pinpoint exactly what it is, and the thought is quickly replaced by shame.  
  
He shakes his head, "No, Buck, it's not that. It doesn't bother me." And no, it doesn't bother him that in some of the tables some men are holding hands, and it doesn't bother him that in one of the other corners of the small bar there are two men kissing like he's only seen men and women kiss each other. It doesn't bother him, but it adds to that sinking feeling that's been creeping up on him in the last couple of years, a yearning of something he wouldn't be able to name. The feelings ebbs and flows, always staying in the far corners of his consciousness that he never really has time to think about it.

It's there that first night at the bar, but still far away from him that it soon dissipates and his attention is back to what's happening inside the bar. When he turns around again he notices his friend is watching him, another unintelligible expression on his face, but before he can try to make sense of it Bucky looks away.  
  
"I come here for the dames," his friend says, a strange tone in his voice, but then he's smirking (Steve can swear it looks forced) and looking at him again. "You don't have to take them out on dates for them to kiss you."  
  
Steve takes another look around the bar and he notices the girls now, the way they cling to some of the men and it dawns on him what this place really is.  
  
"Buck," he starts, looking at his friend again. "This is illegal."  
  
Bucky frowns again, his hands deep in his pockets, his whole posture giving away how uncomfortable he is with something, but Steve can't figure out what that something is. "You said it didn't bother you. They're not hurting anyone--"  
  
"Bucky, it doesn't bother me. None of it, okay? But you could get arrested, these places are regularly raided by the police. They're not going to care if you're here for the dames or not, they're going to take you and you'll have charges of indecency following you around forever." He knows about these places, has read in the papers how bars that serve prostitutes and allow homosexuals inside are considered disorderly and therefore subjected to raids by the police.  
  
His friend sighs and looks away. "Cops are looking the other way on this one, Steve. Someone is paying them to ignore the place."  
  
Bucky doesn't need to say more for Steve to understand that the Mafia is involved, and he's torn between his desire to always do the right thing and the fact that no one is actually doing anything wrong. Everyone here is trying to make a living and trying to live in peace. Everyone deserves that chance.  
  
He accompanies Bucky a few more times when his friend feels like dancing with one of the bar girls. Steve never dances, never says more than a few words to whoever Bucky decides to bring to the table for the night. It's not easy for him to speak with women, not even when the bar girls take a liking to him (though he's sure they like Bucky more) and welcome him with a kind smile and sometimes with a kiss on his cheek.  
  
That's how he finds himself in the same bar on the eve of Bucky's eighteen birthday. Bucky wants to dance and drink, and of course Steve is there because he needs to look after him.

"I might buy myself a night with one of the dames," his friend says at some point before midnight when he's already had a few beers, that same expression on his face that Steve is still unable to understand.  
  
Steve purses his lips and looks away, one shoulder lifting in a shrug. "It's your birthday, Buck. Though if you really plan to do this, stop drinking." When he looks back Bucky is giving him _that look_ , the same one that somehow manages to unnerve Steve because what is he missing? What is Bucky trying to tell him when he looks at him like this?   
  
Bucky's expression changes and he finally smiles again, his relaxed shoulders hinting at just how much he's already had to drink already. "What, are you afraid your best friend will embarrass you?"  
  
Steve rolls his eyes, "No, I'm just trying to make sure you take care of the girl you take upstairs tonight."  
  
Bucky smiles, the gesture somewhat sad. "They're being paid for this, Steve, I don't think they care."  
  
"Well, you should," he shots back, the disapproving look only making Bucky smile again, something warm in the way his friend looks at him that makes Steve look down, feeling that warmth radiate from somewhere inside his chest all the way to the tips of his ears. When he looks up again Bucky is looking away, that same little frown from before back on his lips.  
  
"I always take care of them," Bucky says, and Steve's attention goes to the word always because it means his friend has actually done this before and decided not to tell him, and something about the whole thing settles hard in the pit of his stomach.  
  
It's midnight when Ruby, one of Bucky's favorite bar girls, comes to the table and takes his friend away. A birthday gift from all the other girls, she says, and Bucky laughs and looks at Steve as if to say 'See? I didn't even have to pay.'  
  
But there's that feeling again and it stays with Steve as he looks on while Ruby tugs on Bucky's arm to take him to the rooms upstairs. Something heavy and unpleasant falls over him as he waits for Bucky to come back, an ache forming deep inside his chest that by the time Bucky comes down the stairs an hour later, Steve feels like he might actually be close to having one of his asthma attacks.  
  
He looks on as Ruby smiles at Bucky, her body pressed against his as she whispers a few words that make his friend laugh softly before whispering something back. It bothers Steve, it makes him uncomfortable and then irrationally angry at his friend. Jealousy, that's what it is, an ugly feeling he desperately tries to shake away. He tells himself he's jealous of his friend at first, that it's because he will never have a girl looking at him like Ruby is looking at Bucky, but the thought quickly melts away because it's not true.  
  
The looks, the tension that's been building up between words, and that feeling that's been creeping up on him for the last couple of years finally make way to a revelation that turns out to be more of an acceptance of something he already knew.    
  
He looks away, one hand on his chest as he feels the hammering of his heart. Not even a minute later Bucky is there next to him, looking concerned even as he stumbles against a chair as he tries to get close to Steve.  
  
"Hey, pal, are you feeling okay?"  
  
No, he isn't, but he pretend he is, and he's reminded a moment later of how terrible he is at lying when Bucky frowns and begins to say his goodbyes, telling Ruby he's taking Steve back to his house so he can rest. He tries to argue because this is Bucky's birthday and his friend should be able to celebrate how he wants, but also because he wants to be alone.  He needs to be alone to think and talk himself out of whatever he's feeling.  
  
Bucky ignores his arguments and soon they're on their way back to Brooklyn, a heavy silence falling between them as they walk. When his friend stumbles and laughs a little, Steve shakes his head and moves closer to him, letting Bucky wrap one arm around his shoulder for support.  
  
"You're drunk," he grunts out, Bucky's weight making them slow down.  
  
Bucky laughs softly, like he's amused by Steve's clever observation, but silence falls between them again a minute later. They're just a street away from his house when Steve feels his friend pressing himself closer, head resting on his shoulder. It must be uncomfortable with their height difference, but Bucky's drunk and so he lets him.  Bucky's breath is warm against his neck and Steve shivers, but he tells himself it's because it's early March and the nights are still cold.  
  
"Stevie?"  
  
He replies with a soft grunt as he tries to adjust Bucky's weight against him again. His friend doesn't reply for a long time and Steve finally turns his face a little, but it's enough that he feels Bucky's breath against his lips. He licks his lips, a reflex reaction.  Bucky's grip on his shoulder tightens for a moment and then his friend is standing straight again even if he stumbles a couple of times as they continue to walk.  
  
"Nothin'...I just--" the words come rushing out one after the other that Steve has to strain himself to understand them. "I'm sorry I fucked up."  
  
Steve's worry about his recent revelation is replaced by confusion over his friend's words, but he quickly tells himself Bucky is drunk and he won't remember much of their conversation tomorrow. "You didn't, Buck."  
  
Bucky laughs and there's something about the sound that Steve doesn't like, but he doesn't say anything and Bucky goes back to being quiet until they reach his house. He sits on the floor next to the couch where Bucky is lying down after drinking a glass of water, his sketchbook open on his lap even though he knows he won't be able to draw tonight, not in such poor light.   
  
He finally reaches out and gives Bucky's hand a gentle squeeze. "Happy birthday, Bucky."  That seems to break the strange silence between them and they talk for a while, Bucky slurring some of his words.  They talk about their plans for their next trip to Coney Island, and it's until later that Steve realizes he's still holding Bucky's hand.    
  
The third thing he always remembers about that night is that Bucky didn't try to let go.

And years later he'll find himself inside the same bar from earlier, desperately trying to get himself drunk to forget the terrifying hopelessness settling deep in his bones at the knowledge that the next day he will wake up to a world with no James Barnes in it. He'll sit here and pour himself glass after glass, all the while thinking that if they had only said something earlier, if they had only told each other the truth, they wouldn't have wasted so much time. They would have asked the right questions instead of always giving each other the wrong answers. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'll add tags/warnings as I go along. Some parts might feel rushed, but that's because another POV/chapter will give that info. I apologize if my writing style is all weird and shit. I'm having a writing crisis, but I couldn't get this fic out of my head so here we go. 
> 
> If you made it this far then heeeey, how u doing. Thanks for reading.


End file.
